The short answer is yes. The long answer is a pseudo-psychological journey into your psyche to figure out why you decided Aunt Sheila’s third wedding in as many years was a great platform to launch your new half-dab/half-whip dance abomination, so I’ll just give you the short answer: yes.
Sorry to break the news, Ponyboy, but googling “Did I get too drunk” isn’t exactly a stellar start to self-acceptance for your egregious alcohol consumption. But I’m also not here tell you that this barely-graduated, half-dyslexic career burnout should sit here writing a TFM piece on why alcoholism is dangerous. Honestly? Fly close to the sun, Icarus, because even if your wings melt, at least your memory of projectile vomiting 13 ounces of Kraken on the front lawn will end up just like you: extinguished in a blaze of glory.
With that thoroughly dark inspection of alcohol abuse aside, let’s look to greener pastures and see why being the ever-liquored 28-year-old walking boozebag isn’t the worst name you can make for yourself.
Reason 1: You’re fun
People are civilized not because they want to be, but because they think they should be. You said “fuck civility” back in 2016 when you custom ordered a “Fuck Her Right In The Pussy” T-shirt for $38 dollars more than it should’ve cost. Don’t fool yourself: people want to be like you, society just won’t let them. So drink up, because deep down? You know you’re not just drinking for yourself — you’re drinking to keep humanity flirtatiously buzzed.
Reason 2: It’s natural
Remember that high school science lesson about symbiosis, where some weird bird lived in a gator’s mouth and ate food scraps and the gator was chill because he wanted a thoroughly flossing? Yeah, I barely remember that too, but I think that’s what they said. Anyway, getting loser-drunk for a 1 p.m. softball game is only natural. You drink to enjoy yourself, and you enjoy yourself by drinking. Just remember: the booze needs you more than you need the booze. Throw that in your self-help book.
Reason 3: Tradition
Listen up: this may be your first rodeo when it comes to butt-chugging lukewarm Palm Bay’s at a Luke Bryan show, but it sure as shit isn’t humanity’s first. There is a proud lineage of drunken fucks who have paved the way for you to drink your liver into submission, throw yourself off a balcony onto a folding table, and emerge with your dignity (and brain?) unscathed. That lineage may or may not have common roots in a small North American tribe known today by their ancestral name: Bills Mafia. Either way, respects your elders, put lips to aluminum, and start sipping. It’s the right thing to do.
If you’re somehow still reading this, I’m shocked you made it this far. If I can offer any closing advice, it’s this: disregard the above words and do whatever the fuck you want. Freedom..